Friday, 23 November 2018

There’s a resinous quality to the air on Goienkale, in
Bilbao’s old town. Shops selling studded belts, Dr. Martens and Dead Boys
records give this street a certain vibe – like Camden, but not trying so hard –
which is completed by the groups of scruffy but friendly-looking young punks
crouching outside the bars. The dank aromas might be something to do with them.

When I first visited Bilbao, aged around 14, my main
priority was seeking out cheap Ramones CDs. That mission quite likely took me
to this part of town, though I can’t really remember. It was probably the
gently edgy feel to the place that made me fall in love with the city – it was
one of the first places my parents took me on holiday that I actively enjoyed,
rather than passively being dragged around between plates of chips and glasses
of Coke in continental cafes.

Priorities changes, of course. There seems to be a punk show
on at a squatted building down the road; but I’m more interested in wolfing
down vegan pinxtos, the Basque
equivalent of tapas, in a couple of the local bars. My introduction to Basque
beer comes at Tirauki, where a
selection of bottled beers displayed on the bar offer a welcome diversion from
the Heineken brands on tap. From these, I opt for Pink Porterfrom local outfitLa Txika de la Cerveza. I'm a little taken aback at first, not expecting
vanilla and dark sugar that suggest rum ‘n’ raisin ice cream. Served cold and
being relatively light of body, this hits a sweet spot between refreshing and
interesting.

Moving out of the old town and crossing the river, I head for Café Bihotz. This place
is intimate, but very cool in a minimalist, Scandinavian fashion like a hipster
coffee shop – which, by day at least, is what it is; in the evening, candles
are lit and beer pours from six draught lines. Initially bypassing these, I get
stuck into the menu of bottles and cans, starting with Zapaburu from Basque
brewery Laugar. Billed a hazy IPA
but not especially murky, it has a sticky tropical mandarin edge, balanced with
a touch of dankness. Dumbstruck from Jakobsland, a little further afield in Santiago de Compostela, is
an ode to Citra hops, bursting with juicy lychee.

Of the draught beers, I plump for the local option - Basqueland’sBrut Reynolds. Obviously enough, it’s brut IPA, a zeitgeist style at the
moment and one I happen to be keen on. Like the best examples, this has a real
precision and clarity of flavour, boosted by a very dry and bitter finish. I
struggle all the way through the glass to put my finger on the dominant
flavour – my best attempt is citrus zest and cannabis, with an earthy pine sap
quality. On the way home, in a misplaced effort at sophistication, I stop at a cocktail bar and order almost blindly from a menu written in Spanish. I
curse my monoglottism when a mango smoothie-style drink arrives in a milk bottle with a striped paper
straw. I mention it because it was accompanied by a sprig of fresh oregano; chew
on a leaf and sip the mango puree and the flavour sensation uncannily recalls the
IPA from earlier in the evening.

The principal rationale for choosing Bilbao as a destination
was the Guggenheim museum, somewhere I definitely did not appreciate
on my previous visit as a teenager. It’s sensational, obviously, but a lengthy
wander through its galleries builds up a significant hunger and thirst; Basquery is the answer. Though
listed on Ratebeer and other sites as a brewpub, it looks to me more like a
full-size production brewery with a deli, bakery and restaurant attached. The
staff, initially bamboozled by my presence (I think I was maybe slightly early for full lunch service and this
was the source of confusion, but I can’t be sure) valiantly overcome a
significant language barrier to sort me out with a nice lunch and some
impressive beers.

Itsasbeeris a saison incorporating grape must from a local
winemaker specialising in the beautifully dry and acidic Basque white, txaokoli. I’ll admit to being a
sucker for almost any beer that straddles the boundary between grape and grain,
but there’s something particularly wonderful about the crisp, tannic quality of
white grapes in a saison; a gently floral air rounds it out and a dry,
peppery finish almost demands another swig. Hitman, an IPA, is less
distinctive, but very good, recalling that same mango/oregano interplay I’d
found over at Bihotz the previous evening.

An audible buzz of conversation hit me from halfway down the
street as I approached Singular.
The place is bustling, seemingly fulfilling an important
community function as a place for locals to meet for beer and pinxtos. The tap list is short but well
curated and boosted by a decent selection of bottles and cans. I choose another
from Basqueland, Aupa,
and settle down with my book. I’m distracted first by the beer, which has an
austere blood orange bitterness about it and a remarkable cleanliness. Then
there’s the general ambience of the place, the people-watching potential, and
the delightful old beagle scampering about. Before long I’ve put the book down,
deciding I need no further stimulation than the beer in my glass and the
ambience of the room.

A can of Salda Badago from the
unfortunately-named Gross brewery in
San Sebastien follows. The flavour is oddly nostalgic – it tastes exactly like Barratt’s Fruit Salad chews.
The key elements here are pineapple and vanilla, but there’s a more grown-up
edge of sharp tropical fruit and a notable bitterness in the finish. To finish,
a small glass of Aupa Tovarisch, from the aforementioned Laugar (‘aupa’, by the way, is apparently a Basque expression
meaning something analogous to ‘cheers’). This is a complex imperial stout that
I initially find hard work, such is its intensity – my notes read “I will
probably feel very pissed by the time I’ve finished this (very small) glass.” A
rounded coffee depth of flavour props up notes of maple syrup, orange oil and
gingerbread, finishing on a port wine tang. After a good 45 minutes of slow
sipping, I decide its excellent and leave before I can be tempted by another.

Penguin Bar
has a somewhat familiar feel; with a minimal, faintly industrial vibe and
16-strong tap list chalked on the walk, it's in the mould of craft beer bars in
major cities the world over. Personally, I don’t hold that against the place;
it's atmospheric with a young, hip crowd amongst whom I obviously feel right at
home. There are several house beers, and its not easy to ascertain who brews these
– some sources suggest it’s Txorierri Garagardoak, based just outside the city in Sondika. APA Blonde eases me in,
and it’s a solid West Coast pale ale with a resinous, piney quality rounded out
by some stone fruit.

To follow, I catch up with a couple of Barcelona breweries. I’m
excited to reacquaint myself with Appasionadafrom Barcelona’s Edge, but I'm let down as its vibrant
passion fruit aroma is muddied with buttery diacetyl. Beanz, a double IPA brewed
in collaboration between Garage Brewing
and Ireland’s Whiplash, is
straight-up bizarre. I’m taken aback by its distinctly Middle Eastern vibe,
which primarily recalls mint tea but with a musty quality redolent of saffron.
Tropical fruit lurks underneath, sure, but I’m astonished to look it up and
find that it doesn’t contain any kind
of wacky adjunct ingredient. Perhaps this is what happens to New England IPAs
when the savoury, caraway-type flavours almost completely take over? It’s
interesting to begin with, but soon becomes difficult to drink.

Barcelona might be the more obviously fruitful location for
beer, but on this evening in Penguin Bar, the Basque country easily has the
edge. I’m aware that I end almost every travel post on this blog by saying
something along the lines of ‘city X might not be an obvious beer location,
but if you’re going anyway, there’s good stuff to be found.” Having spotted
this trend, I should now resist it, but the truth is it applies perfectly to
Bilbao. The dedicated ticker, such as myself, will gain satisfaction from the
fact that the city’s beer locations can all be visited over the course of a
weekend. There may be a couple of duds along the way – the worst Spanish beers
can be really bad in my experience - but
that’s tolerable. And at the very worst, I can heartily recommend sitting with a
one-Euro tin of Mahou on the edge of the Nervión river in the sun.